


That's a Frickin Flerkin and Other Avengers 3.0 One Shots

by riot3672



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (Space Monster Gore), Accidental Baby Acquisition, Almost Kiss, Animal Crossing References, Artificial Intelligence, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Bad Humor, Bank Robbery, Batman References, Bets & Wagers, Camping, Carol is gay, Cat Humor, Cats, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Forests, Gen, Hot Springs, Humor, Implied Carol/Maria, Mild Gore, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, POV Carol, POV James "Rhodey" Rhodes, POV Maria Rambeau, POV Natasha Romanov, POV Nebula (Marvel), POV Steve Rogers, POV Tony Stark, Rock and Roll, Serious Injuries, Sex Toys, Star Wars References, Tentacle Monsters, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-02-27 08:52:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18735709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riot3672/pseuds/riot3672
Summary: Natasha never thought she'd have to work with a sentient raccoon, a space assassin, or the equivalent of a nuclear bomb in the form a flaming gay grunge relic from the 90s with a monster cat. But she promised Steve she'd be a great Avengers leader, so her, Rhodey, and Okoye are just going to make the insanity work.(to eventually be a series of one shots set during Endgame. Obviously, Endgame spoilers ahead)





	1. That's a Frickin' Flerkin!

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a comic storyline from the Captain Marvel series -- when Carol tries to introduce Goose into the new Avengers family, Rocket has some other ideas for her space cat. Disaster ensues.

It’d been a long time since Carol worked on a team. And not that she’d ever been _bad_ at being a team player, but she knew it’d require a lot of effort. Even more now that she was dealing with a team of strangers all mid-grieving lifelong friends she’d never known. Now that she was on a team of strangers all mid-grieving lifelong friends she’d never known in the _immediate aftermath_ of a defeat to end all defeats.

It was done. The stones were gone. Thanos was dead, along with half the world’s living creatures. Along with Fury. And she knew she’d been lucky. It’d been a short break for her, a moment to see Maria and Monica, only broken by that creeping realization of how long she’d been gone, how much she should’ve done for them.

But then Maria said there was _no way_ she’d watch Goose, whom Carol had plucked from Fury’s abandoned apartment. Talos was…Talos and his family were gone too, and Carol had no idea where to take her cat-flerkin. Too many people had “disappeared” when Mar-Vell left Goose at the PEGASUS facility, and Carol couldn’t stand the thought of Goose causing more trouble without her. No more lives taken, even if Goose didn’t mean to be, well, an inter-dimensional threat.

So there she was, Goose in her arms, walking across the sprawling Avengers lawn in a Pretty Reckless shirt, jeans that were so skinny even Carol noticed the chafe, and rainbow Converse. Monica said it was all very “her,” but Carol still hadn’t gotten past not knowing anything about the band she was repping besides “female led rock band” and that she could just _wear_ rainbow products now. She was probably rocking a more 20s look, and it still made her shiver thinking she was in her _fifties_ and looked like a twenty-something. She was originally going to ask Fury what was up with that, but….well…

Maybe she’d ask Tony or Bruce. They were scientists. Maybe the wrong degrees, but it was worth a shot.

But as she edged around past the Benatar, there were several cars missing, no one but Natasha, Rhodey, Nebula, and the raccoon standing around.

“Where’d the others go?” Carol asked.

Rhodey crossed his arms, eyeing her. “Did you _go shopping_?”

Carol shrugged. “My kid insists I not look my age.”

“Pet store, too?”

Goose gave a low hiss. Carol glanced down, rubbing her back. “No, she’s just being re-adopted after a certain Nick Fury was unavailable.”

Rhodey looked to Natasha. “Is that okay with your allergy?”

Shit, were flerkins allergins like cats? Why was every second just another reminder of why Mar-Vell never let Carol cat-sit?

“Oh, she’s not—” Carol said.

Rocket pulled out his gun.

And _shot_.

Carol just dodged the shot, the blast carving a hole in the planter behind her. Natasha and Rhodey made movements toward Rocket.

“What the hell are you—?” Rhodey demanded.

“That’s a flerkin!” Rocket exclaimed.

And just shot again.

This time, Goose jumped out of Carol’s arms. Rhodey and Natasha, of course, just stared in utter dumbfoundment.

“She’s my pet!” Carol shot back. “And she’s harmless—”

Not true, but she was not about to give this crazy raccoon anything to play with.

Another shot. Another miss off Goose. Just barely, though. As ridiculous as the whole situation was, Carol couldn’t hold back the stomach twisting nerves. She was _not_ about to lose Goose too.

“If it lays eggs…” Rocket said.

“What kind of cat lays eggs?” Natasha said to Rhodey, in their own little world.

Rocket shot again. And now Goose was getting mad, hissing and back fur spiking.

“Would you stop, you imbecile?” Nebula growled. “You can’t take on a flerkin!”

Rocket warmed up his gun one last time. Goose was now ten feet from him, in perfect range for a shot. Goose was a hair from cracking into full flerkin mode. This was the _last_ way to make a good impression and convincing these people to keep her.

So Carol made a decision.

Rocket shot.

Goose released her tentacles.

And Carol ran, screaming, “NOT MY FUCKING CAT!”

She’d been going for a photon blast, but automatic instinct had something else in mind.

Goose’s warmth charging the air as the tentacles filled her peripheral vision, Carol kicked Rocket to the side as hard as she possibly could. The blast inched just past Goose’s head. Rocket flew. Like _flew_ , a perfect arc that rivaled a professional football player punting the ball across the whole field. A sort of brief _oops too hard_ moment.

Key word: moment.

Because as Carol processed how far she launched Rocket, a tentacle wrapped around her ankle.

She turned back, suddenly faced with the unfathomable void of the dimension beyond Goose’s maw. Horror filled her features, good old human _panic_ clawing from her stomach up to her throat. She had just enough air to get the word out.

“GOOSE, NO!” she screamed

before Goose’s tentacle yanked her to the ground and in.

#

Natasha had been ranking the weird stuff ever since the Thanos disaster started. To think she once thought _Bruce_ was the weirdest person she’d ever met.

Then Nebula and the talking raccoon showed up. She was _sure_ it couldn’t get any weirder than that.

Then Carol, dressed like a gay grunge youth, showed up with a cat that apparently spat out tentacles.

And now it’d eaten Carol.

Otherwise known as the one person who didn’t seem surprised that this had happened.

Natasha wheeled around, unable to even make eye contact with a slack jawed Rhodey. They were not equipped for this. Rocket was…Rocket might be across state lines with how hard Carol kicked him away. Steve had promised her that Carol was the future of the Avengers, that she would be their backbone in space, their knowledge and power that Thor couldn’t be right then. She’d been _banking_ on Carol, not to mention that Natasha just kind of liked her company. And now she was inside a cat, who was just kind of going around in circles, agitated but no longer showing tentacles.

Natasha stopped to lock eyes with Nebula.

Who, thank God, seemed at least…not disturbed?

“Have you—?” Natasha said.

Nebula shook her head. “She’s not dead; she’s in a pocket dimension. She’ll die if we leave her in there.”

Natasha took a step toward Rhodey, eyes on the cat. “What is that again?”

“A flerkin. They’re very rare.”

A beat of silence passed.

“How do we get Carol out?” Natasha asked, wincing.

And just like that, Rocket came dragging his leaf-covered self back, gun knocking the ground behind him.

“Where’s Blondie?! We have some _choice words_ to exchange,” Rocket growled.

Nebula exhaled deeply. “The flerkin got her. You realize she was saving your skin.”

Rocket whirled around, eyes narrowing at the cat. “See, Danvers?! That’s what happens!”

Natasha threw her hands up. “Does. Anyone. Know. _How to get her out_?”

More silence. Rocket exchanged a glance with Nebula.

“We could just kill the flerkin and hope for the best,” Rocket suggested.

Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose, not even having to tell Nebula to take the gun from Rocket. No, she told Steve she could handle this. She would.

“Does anyone know any zoologists?” Natasha asked. She looked to the cat. It was just grooming itself now. “Alien ones.”

Rocket threw his hands up. “My guy got dusted, so no.”

She called Bruce first.

The first thing a stuttering but not _so_ surprised Bruce did was muzzle the cat.

“Okay, I’m gonna pick it up now,” Bruce said as everyone, even Rocket and Nebula, looked on tense as boards, waiting for the tentacles to re-appear.

As Bruce walked the cat into a room with more equipment, he couldn’t seem to help himself. “I’ve only heard of flerkins. I mean, I think Hulk heard about them while on Sakaar. Good news is I’m pretty sure she’s still alive. It’s only been a few hours, right? And if it’s a pocket dimension, all we have to do is access it. Do we know how intelligent the cat is?”

Natasha eyed the cat. It looked back at her with eyes that seemed intelligent, but in an eerie way. What she’d have given for Carol to be the one interpreting right about now.

“Just be careful.”

Bruce left everyone behind a glass wall as he unmuzzled the cat—Goose? That was its name, right?

“Okay, Goose, now I’m sure you know there was a little problem with your owner,” Bruce said, making eye contact with Goose from the other side of the lab. “All we ask, all _Carol_ asks, is that you, y’know, get rid of her.”

Goose stood up. It was enough for Natasha to reach out and squeeze Rhodey’s arm. He was just as tense.

Then Goose rolled over.

An hour later, Tony was standing next to Bruce in the lab, half his Iron Man suit on.

“So there’s a pocket dimension inside of her?” Tony asked Nebula and Rocket.

“Yeah. It’s why flerkins aren’t frickin’ pets,” Rocket said. “And if she _breeds_ , why it’d be _so bad_ —”

“We’re concerned about a human woman inside the cat, not babies, Build-A-Bear,” Tony replied.

Tony turned to Goose. “I’d have kept one as a pet too, New Blood!”

With slow steps, Tony approached Goose. Even with the muzzle on, Tony’s movements were barely there, his fingers barely brushing Goose’s side.

“She doesn’t seem bloated or anything, but it has to be in her somewhere. Just wish I knew—” Goose hissed, and Tony jumped back. He took a deep breath, hand to his arc reactor. “Where.”

“Do you think it’s actually visible?” Bruce asked.

“It must be. If we just pierce the pocket dimension, maybe she’d—”

“Maybe she’d _die_!” Natasha interjected. “And then our strongest Avenger dies with her!”

“ _Dumbest_ Avenger,” Rocket muttered.

Nebula punched him for Natasha.

Tony sighed, turned to Natasha. “What other solutions do you see, Romanoff? Yeah, give the cat grass, but this isn’t a normal cat. It’s a space monster. I feel like cat biology doesn’t work.”

There was just no way cat/flerkin surgery was going to be the answer. “Just let me try. It can’t make anything worse if that’s not how to access the pocket dimension. If not, we cut her open.”

Tony looked to Bruce and nodded. “Well, let’s get going before Danvers ends up warped or something.”

Natasha pulled up more grass than necessary. Like clumps full, enough to really anger the landscapers. But it was her best idea and she wasn’t about to not know how it ended because she didn’t get enough grass for the cat.

With the grass in hand, Natasha entered the room with Goose. Tony put a hand on her shoulder.

“You can also induce vomiting with hydrogen peroxide. Might be worth a try,” Tony said, holding up a syringe.

Natasha approached with the care and finesse she used to give spy missions, dropping the grass in front of Goose. She exchanged a look with Tony. They’d have to pull the muzzle off to get the chemicals into her mouth.

Both of them scrambled behind Goose, Tony ripping off the muzzle as Natasha injected the hydrogen peroxide into Goose’s mouth. The cat gagged and spat like any normal cat, but Natasha had never run so fast for the door. It was a quick succession of sounds, the shuffling of feet, banging shut of glass doors, and the slap of hands onto the panes of glass as everyone watched Goose approach the grass and start chewing on it.

The convulsions started about a minute later. Softer convulsions into convulsions that were so intense Natasha feared the cat was going to rip itself apart. Convulsions so hard that Natasha almost felt bad for the little monster.

Then a little light emanated from Goose’s mouth.

And Carol came sliding out, deposited onto the lab floor covered in some kind of liquid. Her eyes were wide open, in a sort of shock Natasha never expected to see on the close-to-intergalactic-titan.

She wasn’t moving, either.

“Hey, Intergalactic Dumbass!” Rocket exclaimed.

Carol jerked over to Rocket’s direction. Jerked herself right to a sitting position, a moment from what Natasha imagined was kicking Rocket’s ass before she went half-slack, a hand on her face propping herself up.

“Yeah, can I have a minute?” Carol said.

#

Carol knew she could endure pretty much anything. And it wasn’t like she blamed Goose for what happened. No, she blamed _Rocket_ a bit more, but there was no quick shaking of this one. It was strange, how quickly the experience of being inside Goose’s pocket dimension faded from her mind. Images still flashed through her head as she tried to focus on dipping a grilled cheese into tomato soup without spilling the soup everywhere. She knew, somewhere, that it wasn’t an objectively good grilled cheese or soup, but however time worked, Carol felt like she’d been run over by a train, starved and dehydrated for days, and run over by a train a second time and it was a godsend. She’d only towel dried Goose’s whatever fluids off her, so the Avengers having given her a ratty blanket and were completely keeping their distance made at least some sense to her.

So there she was, hair and clothing warped by space cat fluids, wolfing down a shitty sandwich, not saying anything, Goose at her feet.

So yeah, maybe it was a sight to behold.

“Do you think you need to like, go to a hospital?” Natasha asked.

Natasha had apparently been the one who stopped Tony from cutting into Goose to get Carol out, so she made a point to be softer with her. “No, it’s okay.”

“How about a therapist?” Tony remarked.

Carol set her bowl down, waiting for her hand to stop shaking. “I…Not now.”

Tony glanced at Goose. “If you had to describe it in a _Star Wars_ way…?”

Somehow, she just _knew_ the answer. “Sarlaac Pit.”

“Mmm, well, you’re welcome for pulling you out before a thousand years.”

Carol reached down and scratch Goose’s head. She pushed against her hand, almost begging for more love. “Yeah, a little more real time.” She swallowed. “Let’s just say I saw some Kree soldier corpses I haven’t seen since ’95.”

That got everyone from Earth to blanch, even Tony.

Then everyone looked to Goose.

It was as good a time as any.

“Yeah, by the way, Goose is gonna be hanging with us for a while,” Carol picked up her spoon. “Maybe even when I’m gone.”

Carol took a long slurp of soup, not _quite_ making eye contact.

“Are you frickin’ kidding?” Rocket finally sputtered.

“She’s very loyal when she likes you,” Carol muttered.

“Does she like any of us?” Natasha asked.

Carol glanced at Goose, then around the room. Goose was already making it clear that she hated Rocket, disliked Tony, and was still deciding with everyone else.

“I’m gonna turn in early. You know, inter-dimensional trauma. Night,” Carol said.

She stuck the last hunk of her sandwich to hold with her teeth, scooped Goose into her arms, and walked out.

She couldn’t hear the commotion until she was halfway down the hall, but no one followed.

A victory, then.


	2. Warning: Handling Gross Objects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When an "intergalactic threat" turns out to be a giant landlocked squid, Nebula, Rocket, and Carol decide to make a bet on who can kill it first.

Nebula’s fondness for Rocket had grown over the years, particularly since the Decimation had taken all her preferred company.

Nebula wasn’t quite sure what to make of Carol Danvers, but Carol herself tended to give Nebula unasked for positive attention, and Nebula couldn’t deny how pleasant it made spending time with her.

But put Carol and Rocket together and Nebula had glanced at the escape hatch six times on this particular trip through the galaxy. Every second was just making the cold, unforgiving brute of space more and more appealing.

“There was no jurisdiction over in that dump,” Rocket was saying as he ran his hands along the dashboard, not so much to actually control the Benatar but more to appear as though he had important things to be doing.

“That doesn’t mean you strip _literally every vehicle_ _in the area_ for metal detailing,” Carol replied, her feet on the dashboard, not so much because it was comfortable but to assert dominance and keep Rocket from hitting a very commonly used brake.

“No one dies because they lost their spoilers.”

Carol pinched the bridge of her nose. “Five thousand crime reports. And you don’t think that’s worth an arrest?”

“I do when _you have me arrested_ for it.”

“You _broke out of prison_.”

Nebula took a deep breath. “You two have been arguing the same points for the past two hours.”

Rocket and Carol turned back to Nebula.

Carol broke into a smile, turning around and leaning on the back of her chair. “Nebula, did you know you’re a better intergalatic citizen than Rocket?”

“And how many people have _you_ killed?” Rocket spat.

“How many cats have _you_ killed?”

Nebula didn’t want kids, but after this trip, she’d do literally anything to never have kids. Working with mutes would also be preferable.

It made her miss Gamora for a flicker—

“What is that?” Nebula said as they landed the ship.

They were told they’d be stabilizing the planet’s food sources from an internal terror cell.

“A landlocked squid,” Carol replied, setting her feet on the floor once more.

They were never paid for these jobs. Nebula wondered, for just a moment, if they could turn around and pretend they never received the distress call.

Nebula sighed. “It’ll be a quick job at least.”

Rocket cocked his blaster. “Hey Blondie, wanna make this interesting?”

“Always, Weasel,” Carol replied.

“Give us ten minutes. We take that slime ball down, you buy us dinner. If it’s not dead, you do what you do.”

Carol furrowed a brow. “And I get…?”

“The satisfaction in your secret little serial killer heart to decimate something ugly and useless.”

Nebula put a hand on Rocket’s shoulder. He twitched under the movement. “He’ll apologize for trying to kill the flerkin.”

Carol put her feet back on the dashboard and picked up one of those Terran game rectangles. “Once I convince Lobo to give me his princess dresser and men’s toilet, it’s over for that fucker out there.”

Nebula and Rocket went for the longest bout of silence all trip, only until they’d shut the ship door behind Carol.

“What is she talking about?” Nebula asked.

Rocket waved a dismissive hand. “Literally not worth thinking about.”

The squid creature gave a roar as Nebula and Rocket approached, as if dramatics was programmed into its primal brain. Apparently nothing could be straightforward in this universe any more. Not that Nebula ever expected it, but it was nice while it lasted. She unsheathed her weapon, eyes on Rocket as he locked and loaded.

“We fought one of these things before,” Rocket said. “Groot had music playing in the background.”

Nebula ignored the pang in her chest at a mention of the Guardians. “Was it this exact species? If you know its weak spot…”

“Who am I to say that all disgusting blob creatures are build the same way? Only one way to find out.”

Rocket pulled out two micro bombs and clicked one onto one of his bullets. And Rocket went running for the creature, as if self preservation meant nothing. Nebula gave one last glance at her own reflection off the blade before joining him. Not that this mission had such a high rate of failure, but she supposed they went into all battles with a bit less to lose.

But she did really want to see Rocket apologize about the flerkin.

Nebula watched Rocket’s attack from a safe distance, eyes on the blast as it left Rocket’s gun until it hit the monster’s skin.

It bounced right off.

Rocket just barely dodged between its tentacles as he ran for a safe spot to detonate. Even from across the battle field, Nebula could still hear the little rat’s chuckle as he pressed the button.

The explosion went off in a ball of fire.

But nothing happened.

The creature continued to whine and roar, but there was no breaking skin, no discolored blood spurting out.

“The skin is too thick!” Nebula snarled. “You need to pierce it!”

If it was some sort of squid based creature, Nebula guessed the mouth was in the middle of its circle of tentacles, which it was protecting at that point facing down on the ground. The eyes seemed vulnerable, but they were also significantly higher on the creature than what could be reached from the ground.

She looked down at her knives. A test could be warranted at this point—

And the creature seized Rocket.

Not so much of a test, then.

She threw her knife with all her strength, aimed perfectly to land. It sunk into the soft flesh of the creature’s eye, a dark purple substance squirting out. The creature screeched, tentacles thrashing but not so hard to release Rocket. She clicked the electricity on, the beast rearing and landing on what constituted as its back, Rocket going flying with it.

“It’s always the eyes with these things,” Rocket yelled at her. “Get ready—”

But before Rocket could even get a shot off, the creature started to blink. The knife clacked to the ground, the eye covered by that impenetrable skin.

“Shit,” Nebula muttered under her breath.

Nebula glanced back at the Benatar. How long did it take for Carol to do her stupid Terran furniture exchange game?

She took a deep breath. The creature had a wide gap between its body and the tentacles, her knife lying in the blood. The underbelly was exposed. She’d fought creatures more ferocious and smarter than this. She didn’t need Gamora or the Guardians to prove herself a worthy fighter.

So she ran for it. Sprinted until her feet slid beneath the blood, fingers around the knife and stabbing them both up as she continued to slide. The blades went into the creature’s underbelly, a bit softer but still enough to hitch her back, nearly rip her arm out of her shoulder socket as the blades stuck in the creature but her momentum pushed her forward. The cried out in pain as the creature wailed, the blood pouring out of the wound.

It was too much, though.

Nebula let go of her blades, sliding out just as the creature slammed its body down, protecting its underside once more. Rocket ran to her.

“You okay?” he asked.

She rubbed her arm, tensing her jaw to keep any sound at bay. “Fine. Just missing something.”

Rocket glanced at the creature. “You didn’t happen to mortally wound it, did you?”

“No.”

Rocket’s ears flattened against his head. “We have to call Blondie, don’t—?”

And right on schedule, Carol flew in, glowing and without her helmet and still holding the goddamn gaming device.

“You really have a bad time with tentacles, don’t you?” Carol remarked.

“Can you please just get this moody lady’s knives back?” Rocket replied.

If Nebula _had_ her knives right then, she would’ve stabbed him.

Carol shot Nebula a quick eye roll before squaring up the creature. “Known weaknesses?”

“The underside is soft and its eye is vulnerable when exposed,” Nebula said.

“Does it have any significant exposed orifices?” Carol asked.

“What, like you wanna crawl up its butt?” Rocket remarked.

Carol went stiff, expressionless, a feeling Nebula knew all too well. “Thank you for that image.”

And all at once, the creature dropped to its side, the mouth exposed. Tentacles went shooting out.

Right at them.

Carol reacted the quickest, pushing them out of the way with a photon blast. The impact off the blast to the ground was enough to rattle Nebula’s bones; she’d hate to know what a full punch with that energy felt like. She couldn’t help but notice that Carol offered Nebula a hand up but not Rocket.

“Well, there’s your stinkin’ orifice,” Rocket mumbled.

Carol turned to the creature, smiling as her hands welled up with power. “Perfec—”

Rocket then proceed to pull out his second micro bomb, grab Carol’s gaming device, slap it on, and launch it into the creature’s opened mouth.

Carol barely had time to twist her features into confusion before Rocket pressed the button with the glee of an asshole.

And nothing happened.

No explosion, no raining guts, nothing but a still angry monster.

Carol stood in complete stillness. Then she turned to Rocket.

“Why did you do that?” Carol asked, menace in her voice.

Nebula crossed her arms. “It was supposed to blow up.”

Carol’s hands light up with energy. Eyes narrow, jaw tense. Ready to kill.

“Imagine that squid is you,” Carol said, gaze heavy on Rocket.

Carol shot toward the monster.

No, launched herself _right into the creature’s mouth_.

Rocket threw his hands up. “Why do we keep finding more Draxes in this frickin’ universe?”

The dread hanging in the back of Nebula’s throat wasn’t for Carol, though.

She counted down five seconds.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Nebula took a couple steps back.

Two.

“Why did you move?” Rocket asked.

One.

With a blinding blast of light, the creature exploded.

Exploded in a blaze worthy of the explosion Rocket wanted to cause, its body launching int a dozen chunks that landed with booms onto the battle ground, purple blood soaking everything within half a mile. Flesh and half-bits of tentacles everywhere.

Nebula got some purple on her shoes.

Rocket got covered head to toe.

“Are you frickin—?” Rocket said, disgust burrowing into his features.

Carol came flying out with a whoop of joy, landing gracefully on her feet completely soaked in blood, the only color besides purple on her the white and brown of her eyes, _her gaming device_ in her hand.

“You know, I used to be scared of the jaws of life,” Carol said as she powered on her game. It turned on with an annoying techno jingle. “But ya know, you have one encounter with Goose, you’ve had them all.” She shook off her sleeve and wiped her face. A grin lay beneath the blood. “That…” She pointed to the monster’s carcass like an excited child, “was so cool!”

Rocket blinked a few times. “You’re a psychopath.”

“And you owe me an apology.”

Rocket leaned into Nebula, handing her a camera of all things. “Take a picture of that grinning face.”

Rocket rolled his eyes and her turned to face Carol. “ _I’m sorry_ for trying to kill your flerkin. Want a photo?”

Nebula, just as unenthused but at least a bit relieved the fight was over, raised the camera. Carol responded as it seemed all Terrans did, throwing on a giant grin, her eyes scrunching up as she formed raised both her middle and index fingers together in Vs. Still covered in blood. Monster parts concealing behind them.

And they soldiered on back to the ship. Carol only halfway cleaned up when Nebula forced a towel upon her. But her attention went right back to her game.

“Is that thing really worth jumping into an animal’s digestive track?” Nebula asked.

A smile played on Carol’s lips as she winked. “It was mostly for the weasel’s bet.”

Rocket actually didn’t throw any comments back, instead leaning into Nebula to say, “One day I'll be vindicated, Nebula, mark my words. And this picture is the start.”

Nebula could only roll her eyes.


	3. One Click Headshot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In order to get out of a "patrolling the streets" job, Carol volunteers to watch the Avengers facility. Her plan: beat Thor and Valkyrie in Battlefront. But since when do Carol's plans go right?

There were certainly things Carol missed about the 80s and 90s. The crack cartoons she’d watch with Monica, the ubiquity of good rock music, animal species not being extinct.

But the one thing she _loved_ about long term trips back to Earth and the modern era were the video games.

It wasn’t even these full scale warehouse arcades that served alcohol (like, _giant_ Panchos?), but just the gaming systems were off the hook. Incredible graphics, smooth mechanics, developed storylines.

So after saving yet another planet from civil war, Carol returned to the Avengers facility with one plan and one plan only: play _Battlefront V (III? X?)_ until her fingers fell off. And with a day so overcast it was practically evening at ten a.m., her suit replaced with a hoodie and sweats, Goose sleeping by her side, it was practically perfect.

Which, of course, meant Natasha and Rhodey slid into the living room five seconds from Carol’s game loading.

“We’re doing a street sweep today. You in?” Natasha asked.

Street sweeps, according to Avengers (she still wasn’t over that. her call sign. A superhero team name?) Language, was when they took out everyday thugs. Which could be fun, but Carol wasn’t exactly in the mood. The effort difference between taking out street thugs and playing this video game were off by maybe two units of said effort, and one involved her not changing clothing.

“Trying to take it easy this afternoon after the space residency,” Carol replied. “Got anything local?”

Nat exchanged a look with Rhodey. “It may get personal, so if a guy in rocket boosters and a bad leather outfit shows up here, just herd him. Deal?”

“One punch kill, got it.”

“ _Alive,_ Carol.”

Natasha and Rhodey were out the door before Carol could offer another quip. Perfect, as far as she was concerned. She gave Goose another round of pets and slid on her headset. Logged into the right channel in multiplayer—StrongestAvenger2 and CertifiedBetterThanThorOdinson were already logged on.

_StrongestAvenger1 has joined the game._

“Did you choose characters yet or are we all just warming up the machines?” Carol said into the headset.

“We just got on,” Valkyrie said through their feed. “Korg’s out and Thor can’t work the damn Xbox.”

Carol chuckled as she moved them to the character screen. “So for Thor’s benefit, I’ll take Kylo Ren. Let the higher powers compensate for lack of abilities.”

“I am _not_ inferior to you at this game,” Thor griped. “I saw the movie. Kylo Ren was one of the most powerful ones in the franchise.”

Valkyrie picked Darth Maul, referring to him in the ever-colorful _I’m taking the demon with the double laser sword_.

“Thor, please take Chewbacca,” Carol said. “We need someone who actually has a gun.”

“Are you trying to trick me again?” Thor replied. “Is Chewbacca actually the one who dies in the first ten minutes of some middle movie that no one cares about?”

“No, he’s the Sasquatch looking one with the crossbow. One of the highest ranked. Please take.”

Without much more protesting, Thor picked Chewbacca.

“So how’s deep sea fishing and group therapy going?” Carol asked.

“It’s Asgard, so neither are going well,” Valkyrie replied.

“I think it’s going fantastically. Both. Valkyrie just likes stirring up trouble,” Thor said.

“You haven’t been the past three sessions.”

Carol clicked through their screens as Valkyrie and Thor bantered. Jakku, all players on a certain hit kill mission—

And right as she was about to select 100 kills, someone hovered over one thousand and clicked it.

One thousand enemies and—

Someone also clicked for every enemy to be Jar Jar Binks.

“Thor, what’re you doing?” Carol said, voice dead.

Thor gasped. “It wasn’t—It wasn’t me. If anything, I slipped.”

“He’s drunk, by the way,” Valkyrie said.

Carol tried to click out of it, but there was the loading screen. 1000 enemies. For no good reason. She thought for a moment asking what Thor was doing drunk at ten a.m., but it didn’t feel right to breach the subject right then. Maybe if it happened again.

Carol cracked her knuckles before picking up the controller again. “Alright guys, we play this mission all the way through or we never play together again.”

“Can you just have fun, Sparkles?” Valkyrie chided.

“Nope. We weren’t allowed to have sex with fellow pilots in the Air Force. Ruins your sense of fun,” Carol replied, her lip curling up.

“Your planet is a piece of shit,” Valkyrie said.

Three, two one…

“And you’ve never been to Disneyland,” Carol replied.

The match started. For the life of her, Carol couldn’t fathom why someone had made it an option to kill this many Jar Jar Binkses. Or why they had to make _sound_ when you approached and killed them. She could imagine it then, the purest form of nightmares: her brain cinching together the images from Goose’s pocket dimension with a soundtrack of dozens of “Meesa didn’t do no wrong—AHHH!”’s going off at once.

“Carol,” Valkyrie said. “Your planet is a _piece of shit_.”

Sure, she was suffering too, but something about Valkyrie’s pointed hatred and probably lack of context made it hard to not burst out laughing. “This is wish fulfillment for a lot of people. You know, inside joke. You’d have to spend more time on Earth to understand.”

They were down twenty Jar Jars.

“Head high, Valkyrie,” Thor said. “We’ve defeated enemies in higher concentrations than this! And without these quirky space weapons.”

Carol had to admit, Thor was pulling one click headshots on a hell of a lot of enemies.

“If I actually had to exist on a planet with these things, I would happily become an alcoholic again,” Valkyrie muttered.

“You _wish_ you had a lightsaber,” Carol replied.

They are actually doing pretty well. Two hundred enemies down. Force choking turned out to be more useless than Carol had anticipated, although the programmed responses the Jar Jars gave when they were choked were amusing. (Not that she’d admit that to anyone outside of this playing circle. Rocket could spread rumors all he wanted, but Nebula was objectively the most sadistic of the group, Carol just had the ability to _inflict the most damage_.) Cutting down enemies lightsaber style was the way to go, to the point where she and Valkyrie were neck and neck for most kills—

And her health bar went down by a half.

She whirled her player around, only to find Thor’s Chewbacca aiming his bowcaster at her. “Hey asshole, this isn’t ‘Recreate The Force Awakens,’ this is a team up,” Carol growled.

“I was aiming at an enemy behind you. It’s not my fault you chose a character with similar coloring,” Thor replied.

There was a moment of silence.

“My character is in the literal opposite colors!”

#

Rhodey never thought half the threats would just end up making him twice as tired. But that was the world now—less people to be victims to crime, less criminals in general, but the ones who did stroll the streets were batshit insane.

“We’re sure this guy is committing real crimes?” Rhodey asked Nat as they checked weapons.

A bank robbery had turned into a hostage situation, cops taken as well. Based on what remained of S.H.I.E.L.D. calling them into the scene, the “bank” was carrying something a little more interesting.

“Yes, Rhodey,” Nat said.

“And like…we’re talking Joker level Batman villains? Because if this guy turns out to be a Condiment King level guy…”

“I don’t know who the Condiment King is.”

Rhodey set a charge on the back door.

“Whatever the stupidest version of what’s in your head is correct.”

The charge flipped into a ball of light and heat, the lock blown off. Nat kicked the door open, gun first.

“And calling them Batman villains is reductive. These people have body counts.”

“So did the Queens kid in the spider costume, but do we think of him as a killer or a strange joke that our lives ended up this way?”

Two guards in front of a steel door. Rhodey threw on his x-ray filter; several spots of body heat showed from behind the door.

“Strange joke,” Nat replied.

“They’re in there.”

“That we have to take seriously,” Nat said before she shot the two guards—two easy leg shots and they were down.

While Nat secured the guards, Rhodey tinkered the door unlocked. Not that this day didn’t need more explosions, but the safety protocols always swept over him in these times. Memories bubbled back over. Military missions, dripped in color when he repeated the mechanics on missions with Tony and the Avengers. He couldn’t decide if he was pissed that Tony had left them to cradle the toppling world themselves or if he was relieved that Tony had stopped working.

No, he was happy about Tony. Tony had done enough.

He was only a _little_ annoyed that Sparkle Hands was currently sitting on a couch playing video games when she probably could’ve taken care of this in one fell swoop while blasting No Doubt on an outdated boombox just to prove to them that _yeah_ , she could massacre armies while dancing around like an idiot. He should’ve listened to Maria Rambeau when she described Captain Carol “Avenger” Danvers not as a righteous hero machine but as a quasi hillbilly who nearly died at a traveling carnival because a carny challenged her to do that Ride-Around-This-Sphere-On-a-Motorcycle for an XXL Nirvana shirt. Maybe that was his curse, watching over a never-ending series of Tony Starks.

Hostages secure. Rhodey had to focus to even remember the good feeling that came from saving lives. It was one of the few things he’d never give up in this line of work. Maybe the only reason he refused to retire like Tony.

Aaaand the dude causing all this shit was, sure enough, in all leather with hover boots on his feet.

With an alien weapon in his hands.

Okay, so, yeah, S.H.I.E.L.D. business. Rhodey exchanged a look with Natasha.

“Long time, no see, huh?” Leather Dude said.

Rhodey studied him, running through a database off the War Machine programming as he looked. No matches.

“Yeah….Who are you?”

He grinned. “Oh, you’ll know.”

And the guy burst through the ceiling. Rhodey huffed and went flying after him.

A hundred feet into the air, though, and he got hit. Something small, just enough to knock him off a perfect curve.

Rhodey glanced at his shoulder.

Yeah, it was a bomb.

Rhodey gave one look at Leather Dude. He was still flying.

Rhodey forced a landing. Pulled out some tools to pry the bomb off.

Yeah, the city was being overrun by Batman villains.

#

980 kills. They were at _nine hundred and eighty kills_. Valkyrie up by five kills, neck and neck while Thor took the flanks to build up numbers around the border. Or he just got lost and couldn’t find the heat of the action. Either way.

All Carol knew was that it had taken them a _very long time_ , but were going to win this fucking mission. Her fingers mildly ached, Goose was viciously rubbing against her leg for something non-essential, and she hadn’t heard from Rhodey and Natasha in a while, but this was about to get done.

990 kills. Carol had three in her area, Valkyrie had two in hers, and the remaining five were unaccounted for. Without any power ups, Carol was maybe two good shots from death. But it was the kind of challenge Carol loved.

“Meesa didn’t do no wrong—AHHH!”

One down.

“Meesa didn’t do no wrong—AHHH!”

Two down.

Two down, but shit, one got her from behind.

“Thor, I swear…” Carol muttered.

“I am…I am stuck on a cliff right now. It was not me,” Thor replied.

Yet Thor was…Thor just overtook her and Valkyrie’s kill numbers.

There was one goddamn Jar Jar left.

“Hey Val, do you think about Sakaar much?” Carol said, switching strategies. “About the time we fucked?”

Thor’s line went dead. His character stopped moving.

“Oh yeah, the time we used the double strap,” Valkyrie replied.

Carol zeroed in on the last Jar Jar. Valkyrie’s character went running too.

“Really puts the whole photon blast thing into a new light,” Carol added.

“Didn’t we break something? The bed?”

“The room, I think.”

“I want to respect you both as non-sexual beings,” Thor said. “Why are you doing this?”

A few game yards from the scene. The Jar Jar was moments from his little speech. No Valkyrie in sight.

“Oh come on, Thor, respect for women starts with seeing us as sexual objects to each other that you can’t touch,” Valkyrie chided.

Valkyrie’s Darth Maul burst onto the scene. Carol set her Kylo Ren into a full sprint, Force Choke on.

And a blast sounded.

From inside the house.

Silence, then all at once, something launched through the ceiling

and

landed

right

on

the

TV.

Carol swore her heart stopped.

For a moment, she wasn’t even sure what to do besides rack her fingers through her hair and jumble out sounds of pure shock and anger.

A man emerged from the rubble and pieces of television.

“Avengers! I’ve infiltrated your safe house!” he said.

Or maybe that was just her compassion.

She didn’t even bother giving this asshole eye contact. Just reached for the destroyed frame of the flat screen TV, lifted it above her head, and slammed it down on the man.

And right around then, Rhodey and Nat ran into the house.

“Carol!” they yelled.

“Hey Sparkles, where’d you go? Thor won!” Valkyrie said in her still-working headset.

Carol had nothing to do but remove the headset, set it gently on the coffee table, and walk away from the maybe-dead flying man.

“Where are you going?” Rhodey asked.

“Back to space,” Carol replied, voice dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise at some point they won't be Carol centered. Just...not now.


	4. Love in Exceedingly Hopeless Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Rocket grudgingly admits on a wilderness training retreat that he's never met an Earth raccoon, Carol and Nebula make it their goal to find him one.

Carol wasn’t exactly keen to admit it—you know, she was Space Badass and all that—but she really did love Earth on a super basic nature level. Like _of course_ she’d tell everyone that she’d take any and every opportunity to disappear into the sky, that ‘the ground couldn’t hold her down,’ etc.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t _super_ excited when Natasha said they were going to go on a ‘training exercise weekend’ into the upstate New York wilderness beyond the Avengers facility. And when Nat slipped that Okoye was in town and was going to be dragged into this sure to be clusterfuck, oh, Carol was _so ready_. So ready that even when one frantic call to Maria got her the classic “there’s no way in hell you can get me back into the wilderness with you after Summer ’84” Carol was still stoked.

Carol was the first one out of the car upon landing in their campsite. It’d been something like thirty years since she’d gone camping, but never post-blast. She bit her lip to keep from smiling as she finally got a view of her photon energy surging on her fingers to the backdrop of a flawless mountain background. According to a touch of research Nat and Bruce were doing, Carol was immune to all poisons, something Carol hadn’t even realized this many years out. There was scientific evidence that she could go running in all the poison ivy and oak untethered by fear. It was a miracle in and of itself.

“So I was thinking we could go through some survival protocol,” Natasha said as she tucked some of her hair into a Yankees hat Nat had 100% brought five minutes before this trip.

Okoye scanned Carol, Rocket, and Nebula with that how-has-this-become-my-job look. “Nat, look at your audience. Just let everyone relax for a few days.” Okoye put a hand on Natasha’s shoulder. “ _You_ can relax.”

Rocket crossed his arms, his lip turning down as Nebula squirted a dollop of sunscreen into her hand and looked downright disgusted.

“So what useless part of Terra are we on exactly?” Rocket asked. “There is _literally_ nothing threatening out here.”

Okoye gave Rocket a look. “Have you never seen an animal in your life? This forest is full of bears, cougars, moose. And every one would not hesitate to kill you.”

An exaggeration, but Carol couldn’t help but smile at someone else messing with Rocket on principle. Carol spotted a poison oak bush.

Rocket touched his bicep. “Trust me, I’ve fought off worse than mindless animals without a gun. Like I said, _not threatening_.”

A smile played on Carol’s lips. “Have you seen a raccoon before?”

Rocket whipped his gaze over to Carol. “A what?”

“A raccoon. You know, striped rodent that looks exactly like you but with more survival instincts and far less offensive opinions.”

Rocket crossed his arms. “I don’t need to see one of those stupid things.”

Nebula smiled. “He’d love to see one. I’m sure it’s rare to see your kin.” Nebula left it with a little messing of Rocket’s fur, prompting him to nearly scratch her to get her away.

“I’ll find you a wife,” Carol said as she eyed the poison oak. The monkey brain part of her really wanted to go rub some on her arms to experiment, but her Inner Maria was already shaking her head at the idea. “Or husband. Partner. I’m not biased.”

“We’re not going searching for a raccoon just as much as we’re not going searching for Bigfoot,” Natasha said. “We can take things easy, but there really are important skills for you guys to—”

“I don’t want a friggin’ wife!” Rocket growled.

Carol exchanged a look with Nebula. “First one to find a raccoon gets the prime sleeping bag spot in the tent?”

Nebula acknowledged Carol having spoken with the slightest tilt of her chin. “It’s better than training.”

Carol, one moment from breaking into a photon run, looked back to Nebula. “Do you know what a raccoon looks like?”

“Yes.”

Carol smirked. “Good.”

And she went running.

#

Somewhere deep in her heart, Nat knew it would end like this. Or rather, begin and end like this. Rocket was nowhere in sight, Nebula and Carol had both shot off in separate directions, leaving Nat with nothing but Okoye’s half-hearted attempts to not laugh and a suddenly relevant story from Rhodey from Maria Rambeau that Carol once nearly got them killed in the Sierra Nevadas because Carol was legitimately dead set on finding aliens.

“Did you ever think that maybe they were never meant to work as a team?” Okoye said as they trudged their way through the woods. Nat was letting Okoye lead, hoping once the Great Raccoon Search ended that she could get at least one thing done. “That we all work because as individuals we can cover an actually meaningful expanse across the universe?”

Nat tightened the strings on her hoodie. “That wasn’t what made the Avengers powerful.”

“Yet that was years ago. Times may be changing.” Okoye paused. Smiled. “Or you’re an terrible leader.”

Even if Nat found herself chuckling and pushing Okoye’s shoulder, there was no ignoring the twinge of pain the words sent. “Maybe it takes an terrible leader to wrangle these toddlers.”

A flash of light shined through the top of the tree line, Okoye and Nat following the sight as if compelled. It was faint, covered by the other sounds of the forest, but Carol was definitely laughing as she jumped around like a sparkling Tarzan.

“To think the blond god used to be the most powerful being put into the body of a complete imbecile,” Okoye commented.

Nat smiled. “I think Carol’s smarter than Thor. Just more familiar with Earth and…abusing her powers for whatever twisted version of fun she has.”

Okoye crossed her arms. “Where is she from?”

“Ventura, California.” Okoye stared, as if waiting for more context. “Rednecks.”

Okoye nodded. Enough said.

“Where are we going exactly?” Nat asked.

“This is for you,” Okoye said.

Nat pushed back a few eye-level tree branches only to find a small hot spring.

“When did you have time to—?” Nat said.

“Meet me back at the camp when your ulcer disappears,” Okoye said before straight up disappearing into the woods.

Nat thought about following Okoye for at least thirty seconds.

The other thirty seconds were spent stripping herself down to her underwear and wading into the hot spring. The water was almost too hot, the kind of heat that burned through Nat’s skin, made it difficult to move, but it was exactly what she needed. Any challenge to stay put, to force her body to adjust the pain into pleasure.

She shut her eyes, just for a moment.

When she opened them, there was Carol, hands still glowing a little, stripping down and practically running into the water saying, “This is so much better than the raccoon thing!”

Carol settled into a spot a couple feet from Natasha, close enough that Nat could see the beauty mark on her cheek and raised veins across her forearms. There was both an ease and almost giddiness in her features, like relaxing like this was a rare and coveted thing. Which…considering the nonstop space police thing, was probably accurate.

“You’re actually stopping a dumb challenge you started?” Nat teased.

Carol shrugged, crossing her hands across the back of her head. “Nebula needs to win some things. She has an actually tragic complex and until she agrees to go to therapy I think this is the only way to treat it.”

“Astute of you.”

Carol nods, sinking deeper into the water. Not enough to get that short hair wet yet, though. “Being fun doesn’t actually take away from abilities to read emotion.” Carol stretches an arm out, lightly tapping Natasha’s shoulder as she goes. “Trust me, my previous life was Maria Rambeau’s sanity as we drudged through bootcamp and the early Air Force years.”

Natasha took a deep breath. “You and Okoye planned this, didn’t you?”

The corner of Carol’s lip quirked up. “If by that, you mean ‘torture Rocket,’ then yes. But your intervention is completely organic.”

“For the record, Steve wasn’t fun either when he led the Avengers.”

“Well, based on my illuminating conversation with Tony Stark as I saved his ass, he gave a general impression that both you _and_ Steve were only fun when ‘poked with an electric cow prod.’ Which…” Carol made an indistinguishable hand gesture, “I wasn’t entirely sure wasn’t literal because it’s Tony Stark but Nebula asked literally what he meant and it turned out he meant like, getting you guys to parties and to play Cards Against Humanity.” Carol paused. “Whatever that is.”

Natasha chuckled. “It’s a highly offensive game where someone puts down a fill-in-the-blank phrase and you have put down one of your cards to complete it. There’s an Avengers addition that Tony bought for each of us a year ago.”

Carol went from a soft smile sliding into a frown. “I’d dominate Fury and Talos at that, I just know it.”

Nat put a hand on Carol’s shoulders. “Both gone with the Decimation?”

“Your ride or dies survive, and they just expect it to be okay, but…” Carol shrugged. “I don’t even _know_ what happened to my brother and dad.”

“Do you want to find out?”

“No.” A beat. “Do you wanna make out?”

A beat.

“What?”

Carol didn’t even flinch. “You seem like you really do.”

“You don’t even—What are you, some kind of gay psychic?”

“Well, I was nicknamed Gay Psychic in very specific social circles in the USAF, so…”

Natasha slid away, Carol’s arm falling limp. “No, I—this is professional. I don’t even like—”

One beat.

Two.

Three.

Natasha jumped into Carol’s lap, pushing their faces together by the back of Carol’s head.

And stopped just before her lips met Carol’s.

Because a raccoon _dropped_ into the space between them.

Carol retracted first, photon-blasting the thing clear against a tree, knocking it so hard it cleared the entire hot spring to land on the other side. One beat of utter silence, and then Nebula dropped down from trees.

“Did you kill it?!” Nebula demanded, _clearly_ more into this game than before.

Carol, hand still somehow on Nat’s thigh, peered over past Nat to look. “It’s stunned. It’s definitely just stunned.”

Nebula jogged around to look at it. Poked it with a stick.

“It’s tough enough for Rocket,” Nebula mused.

There was a long beat of silence.

“Are you groping Natasha right now?” Nebula asked.

Carol retracted her hand.

#

So the raccoon wasn’t waking up.

Carol didn’t know much about raccoons—she hardly understood Goose, let alone raccoons—but it had to be a problem that it was breathing but not waking up. And as she squatted in front of it, clothing damp and sticking to her skin, she kind of felt bad. Sure, it was Nebula’s fault for throwing the thing out of the trees, but if it was in a coma, it was her fault.

“So what happened to you and Maria in ’84?” Nat asked.

“I accidentally dropped my camera off a cliff and I nearly jumped off the cliff to get it,” Carol said.

Carol pooled her hands with water and dropped it onto the raccoon’s face. Still nothing but a twitch in its weird thumb hand.

“Why are you alive right now?” Nebula asked.

“It wasn’t a huge drop off!” Carol gave a dismissive wave. “Anyway, that wasn’t even the bad part. I _happened_ to walk through a patch of poison oak and the poison apparently ended up on Maria and she brings it all back to going into the poison oak bush to try to jump off the cliff and—” Carol picked up a nearby stick. Maybe poking it?

Nebula raised an eyebrow. “How did you spread poison oak to another person?”

Carol stopped mid-stick about to nail the raccoon. “Nebula, have you ever had sex?”

Nebula just rolled her eyes. “I meant for a disease that isn’t spread through the rash itself, how did you spread it?”

Another pause. Carol started poking the raccoon. “Look, there was a lot of poison oak and I don’t remember what clothing was or wasn’t removed. But it happened. And if you ever had a chance to be with me,” Carol lit up one of her hands for effect, “you’d beg for it even if I was covered in poison oak. Which I can’t even get now that I’m half-Kree.”

And right around then, Okoye and Rocket showed up.

“What is _that_?” Rocket demanded.

Carol picked up the stunned raccoon by its waist. Like a baby. “Your kin!”

Rocket narrowed his eyes at it. “That thing is dead.”

“It’s stunned.”

Okoye smirked, looking to Rocket. “Kiss it. I’m sure it’ll wake up.”

“No way!” Rocket said. “Blondie can kiss it.”

Even if she was immune to poison and toxins, she probably couldn’t get rabies from this thing…

“Nope,” Carol said before tossing the raccoon to Rocket.

The force of the other raccoon pinned Rocket to the ground.

And in the _biggest miracle_ in the world, Rocket actually took one look at the raccoon and leaned in.

The raccoon, meanwhile, jolted up, hissed, and ran into the forest.

“Ooh, so close,” Carol said.

Nat threw her hands up. “Is this raccoon hunt done? Can we go back to camp?”

Carol exchanged a look with Nebula.

“We’re done,” Nebula said.

Natasha walked side-by-side with Carol as they all marched back.

“Let’s just…not talk about that almost kiss,” Nat said.

Carol gave a thumbs up. “Just don’t tell anyone that I shot that raccoon thinking it was Rocket.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry for the delay in updating; work is going to be a little wild for the next couple weeks, but I'm hoping to keep to a weekly schedule.


	5. H-A-R-R-I-S-O-N

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Carol admits the tech on her spaceship is way behind on the times, Tony decides to make a rare visit out to the Avengers facility with baby Morgan to create an AI for Carol.

If Carol had learned anything during this this twenty-whatever year stint as a space cop/superhero/Avenger, it was that she wasn’t completely indomitable. Often she could fake that for lovers and enemies alike, but there was no way to quite escape the very specific pain of having a five inch piece of shrapnel lodged into her arm after being hit by a rogue blast. Earth had been closest, so there she was in the Avengers infirmary, criminally underused, as Natasha washed her hands in a nearby sink.

“So tell me how this happened exactly?” Nat asked as pressed a needle into Carol’s arm. Apparently Carol’s pain tolerance was being underestimated.

“The ship I have is just only so advanced,” Carol replied. “It can keep me from sinking into the unknown void of space, but apparently you fall asleep for an hour and it can’t alert you that there’s a pirate ship probably trying to kidnap your cat right there.”

Carol glanced to the door of the infirmary. Goose was still outside, face nearly smashed against the wall. It would’ve been cute if Goose didn’t also look like she generally wanted to murder people for having locked her out of the room. Goose combined with the _beautiful_ Jackson Pollock look Carol’s blood had done to the floor of this place had turned the whole situation into quite a sight.

“You shouldn’t be in a ship like that,” Nat said. “It doesn’t have advanced AI?”

Carol raised a brow. “Not to question your expertise on everything, but what experience have you had with AI in spaceships? Most of the ships I see are literally the Millennium Falcon without a droid to translate what the hell the ship’s saying is damaged to you.”

Nat grabbed onto the shrapnel. Carol could _handle this_ , she’d been faking being tough since she was _born_ , but her stomach coiled at the sight. “You should talk to Tony. He whips up those AI systems faster than he makes kids.”

If Carol’s perception of time was correct, Tony’s daughter was five months old by then.

“See, I don’t have a relativity measurement for how hard it is to build an AI system, but to say he’s made more than one doesn’t sound that impre—”

Nat straight up _yanked_ the shrapnel out. No warning, no comfort, just Russian pain. And Carol yelped. No toughness, no slickness, just…fine, she’d let _three_ people into the club of Carol’s Human and never speak of it again.

“It’s impressive,” Nat said, a smirk breaking out.

The pain wasn’t going away. This was bullshit. That painkiller was especially bullshit. And blood was coming out like a Gusher.

“Are you gonna fix that?” Carol asked, her voice cracking.

Natasha turned around with a roll of bandages. “Your blood is really beautiful, by the way.”

And _why_ in the hell was she crying right now?

“I’m crying because of pain,” Carol said.

“Exactly what Maria told us,” Nat replied. “And I’ll get Tony on your ship problem.”

#

Tony would never admit it, but he was starting to believe that part of the reason he hadn’t returned to the meager remains of the Avengers in so long, especially not since Morgan was born, was because he feared it’d be some magnet that could bring him dragging his feet back to the tech and adrenaline rushes those years as Iron Man had been. It’d been an irrational thought the whole way through, so when he had the opportunity to prove it wrong, he knew he had to take it. He could go to the Avengers facility, build Carol an AI for her ship, and come back to Pepper and not feel an ounce more likely to take up the Iron Man helm again.

He’d just…take Morgan with him to keep him grounded.

Walking into one of his many old work stations, Carol was already sitting with one leg slung over one of the armrests of her chair, her hair in a short side part, black jeans and Nirvana shirt, broken up by an oversized light wash denim jacket and colored Docs. Yes, it was hot outside. Yes, she still dressed like a grunge teenager when not sharing Natasha’s clothing.

But the…whatever age Carol actually was jumped up like she was possessed, going from cool to melting over Morgan in maybe two seconds flat. And Tony had to admit, Carol was like a glowing super weapon human of a baby magnet—Morgan just let Carol pluck her from Tony’s arms.

“Oh, thank God you brought one of the superior Starks,” Carol said as she blew raspberries on Morgan’s stomach. Morgan’s squeals of delight echoed through the room. A sound Tony could get used to.

“So Nat says you want an AI for your ship.”

“Yeah. Give it a great personality.”

“I’ll be sure to put that in.”

As Carol fawned over Morgan, Tony started setting up the basic skeleton. Sure, he could’ve just taken an old model—a Jarvis, a Friday, even that Karen he’d made Peter, but it was times like this Tony just remembered—he was a tech _artist_. Carol was getting a very specific AI that would perfectly push her buttons the way a proper friend of Carol’s did. And not to be a total asshole—Carol seemed like she’d just get bored without a fun one.

“So obviously we’re talking advanced security system, cognitive functioning, knowledge of your ship, but got any other special requests? Do you need it to know every episode of _Gray’s Anatomy_ , want it to sing, want it to just constantly insult you?”

Carol actually looked away from Morgan to answer. “You’d make an AI that just insults its captain?”

Tony shrugged. “Sometimes they just spend time with their captain and figure it out on their own.”

“I’m the most capable pilot you know.”

“So I’m gonna take that as gospel truth and have your AI never tell you how to fly your ship. Like I’ll delete the manual off the system.”

Carol broke into a smile. “I dare you to be so bold.”

“Do you want your ship to understand humor?”

“Um, _yeah_? What’s the point of this thing if I can’t banter with it?”

Tony inputed the traits as they spoke. “Just throwing it out there. I’m pretty sure Blue Meanie would destroy a ship if it told jokes.”

“Well,” Carol ran a hand through her hair. “Can it tell good jokes? Like I don’t want some a-hole who doesn’t even exist telling puns.” Carol paused. “Oh! And can it have _Star Wars_ opinions? But good _Star Wars_ opinions. Like if tries to argue that Rey is too powerful, I’ll throw myself out a window.”

Tony paused.

“Do you want to form some kind of bond with this AI?”

“Look, there’s no one to hang out with when you’re that deep in space. You give me options and I have needs.”

Tony’s gaze locked onto Morgan, eyes droopy in Carol’s arms. “You’re saying this in front of my daughter?”

Carol frowned. “Tony, she’s pre-verbal. She won’t remember any of this.”

He…must’ve not read the baby book with that information in it. “Fine.” Tony crossed his arms. “We need to talk about how you clearly want a _Her_ for a spaceship.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“An AI voice you try to have sex with.”

Carol’s features twisted into shock. “Why would I _do that_?”

“Look, you’re alone, don’t wanna go to the alien rest site and it’s not like this AI judges you. But I can’t condone it. I can’t—I can’t picture one of my creations sexting. I’ll put in your _Star Wars_ opinions and the entirety of the Riot Grrl music scene into your AI, but it needs a male voice.”

Carol gasped. “Excuse me? What if—What—What if I like men too?”

It took every bone in Tony’s body to keep from laughing. “You’d have to express an ounce of interest in men to convince anyone of that.”

“This is ridiculous—”

“I’ll name him Harrison. After Harrison Ford. Good reference.”

“Tony—”

“This is for your safety. Look at what happened to your arm because you were distracted.”

Carol glanced at her arm. “I was _asleep_!”

“No, I don’t think you sleep. You can admit it to me.”

“Tony—”

Tony started typing the letters H-A-R-R-I-S-O-N as slowly as possible. “It’s happening…”

Carol set Morgan into the car seat Tony brought. Just to approach him.

“ _I love men_!”

Tony smiled. “I’m sure you do…”

“ _I think about dick all the time_!”

“Carol, you can’t—"

“ _Dogs in a jacuzzi every day_!”

Tony chuckled. “That’s not the right phrase.”

Carol whipped out her phone as Tony threw in some more characteristics. Tony could locate the exact moment Carol read the definition as her lip curled down. “Dogs in a bathtub. It’d be hard to keep them in either one.”

Carol sighed. “Can I at least pick the voice? Can he sound like James Earl Jones or Jeremy Irons or something?”

“Sure—”

“I’d even take Jack Nicholson just _please_ I have to hang out with this guy every day for months.”

“…I’m holding you to that Jack Nicholson thing.”

Carol exhaled. “Fine.” Carol returned to her odd sitting. “Can you give Harrison unparalleled knowledge of cryptids and conspiracy theories? And like, can he teach me to carve wood and maybe crochet?”

Tony could only blink a few times. “Do you plan to never come back?”

“Look, I got trapped in a time freeze vortex for like two weeks once and I am never going to spend that much time with my thoughts again.”

Tony crossed his arms. “I’m not sure if I want the full story of that.”

“I learned the physics behind my powers. Apparently if you expose me to extra cosmic energy I can go full binary, like a star.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “I’m interested.”

Carol smirked. “No, it was a lot of tearing apart walls and lesbian mags.”

Tony threw his hands up. “You better be right about that pre-language thing.”

“Ask my well-adjusted rocket scientist daughter.”

Tony watched for a moment as Carol picked up a fussy Morgan and bounced her on her shoulder. “Neither one of those was true, was it?”

Carol shrugged. “I am but a humble enigma.”

“More like space has rotted your brain.”

Carol shot him a finger gun. “Bold of you to assume I ever had any.”

She walked toward him, baby still in her arms. He vaguely remembered some detail about her arm being horribly disfigured with shrapnel, but Tony guessed Carol just didn’t care.

“You know, you don’t need to play dumb space god cop for me,” Tony said. “I know you had Kree tech back in the 90s. You could probably do this yourself if you wanted to. And side note: are you trying to pawn off my daughter?”

Carol smiled. “Key word: ‘wanted to’ and sure, but she needs a change so…”

Tony formed his mouth into a thin line. “Actually, keep Morgana occupied while I do this and I won’t charge you for Harrison.”

Carol paused, about half the necessary supplies from Morgan’s bag. “You were gonna _charge me_ for this?”

“Basic economics.”

“I _saved your life_. You’re lucky I didn’t demand your firstborn child as payment.”

“You’re totally free to take her when she’s a teenager and hates Pep and me.”

Carol rolled her eyes as she set up a makeshift changing table on one of Tony’s work tables. She smiled down at Morgan. “Aww, I’ll take you in and influence you with my agenda and then you can come back to Mommy and Daddy a gay, rainbow-haired, metalhead Communist.”

Tony put his hand to his chest. “Thank God. I thought you were going to turn her into a redneck.”

Carol scowled. “I don’t know where that idea came from…”

“You have way too many county fair stories to not be a redneck, Danvers.”

“I am literally holding your only child in my arms.”

“And you love her.” Tony paused. “Plus I’m pretty sure you only kill male creatures.”

Carol cinched up a fresh diaper, placing the old one on the counter. “Yeah, where’s the trash in here?”

Tony pointed to a bin opposite the table from him.

Of course he should’ve expected the diaper.

But he didn’t expect the diaper hitting him square in the arc reactor. Hard enough that he actually had to catch his breath, realize what Carol just threw at him, and catch his breath again.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I was aiming for the trash!” Carol said as she pulled a gummy smiling Morgan into her arms.

One win for Danvers, but he was gonna win this game.

#

Tony finished the AI Harrison (which apparently didn’t stand for anything) that night, and after one visit to Maria and Monica, Carol was back in space. In style now, though. For all that Tony Stark was a gigantic asshole, Carol had to admit that she loved him and all his tech-y genius. Seeing Morgan was always a joy. It made her feel ancient, but she did miss seeing a baby and/or child regularly, and yes, she was banking for Monica to marry her partner and start having kids.

But for right then, the ship was fixed and Harrison was _badass._ This was, without a doubt, the greatest ship she’d ever been on.

“Harrison, play Nirvana, circa ‘Bleach’ era,” Carol said.

“ _You got it, Captain_ ,” Harrison replied.

Carol paused, shook her head. Harrison’s voice was far from whatever deep melodic voice she’d asked for. It was nasally, not confident, maybe deadpan at best, vaguely familiar…

“Harrison, how’s the system? Do you wanna chat about life?” Carol asked.

“ _System’s all operating perfectly. Life is good, but obviously I’m optimistic since I was just installed. I think I was created to have an anxiety setting, so I will admit I’m anxious not knowing exactly how you conduct your space travel_.”

Tony gave it _anxiety_?

“Is your humor function on? Can you understand sarcasm?” Carol asked.

“ _Humor, sarcasm, and cheekiness features activated, Captain_.”

“Who was your voice modeled after?”

“ _John Mulaney, Captain. According to Wikipedia, Mulaney is_ —”

That _asshole_.

“I don’t care, Harrison!”

Fuck.

“Can I change your voice?” Carol asked.

“ _That’s a higher level clearance. But I can try to cheer you up. Update on systems: everything is functioning, but my updog needs a system update. Please authorize, Captain_.”

“What’s ‘updog’?”

“ _Not much dog, what’s up with you_?”

Carol was going to kill Tony. Like find him and use him as a bludgeon for the next super villain she and the Avengers came across. Morgan would be fine with just Pepper.


	6. Good Disguises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Rocket says he needs Carol and Nebula to help sneak him into an Earth bar to beat a space fugitive for units, no one's exactly thrilled. But when Carol realizes Rocket's fugitive is in her hometown, it'll be a miracle if everyone survives.

At that point, Carol had gone on dozens of missions with the two remaining members of the Guardians of the Galaxy, former and still kind of at-large space criminals, and there was a palpable difference between when they called each other on space missions and when they were together on Earth. Maybe Rocket was just more focused on kicking other people’s asses in space. Hell, sometimes Rocket even _appreciated_ Goose’s flerkin status on space missions.

But on Earth…

“That flerkin is spayed, right?” Rocket asked as Carol held Goose in her lap, trying to catch up on _Killing Eve,_ some show Monica recommended.

“You know, if we’re arguing about forced sterilization of creatures with an advanced consciousness, I’d almost think you’d be anti-spaying my flerkin,” Carol replied.

Rocket’s upper lip curled. “That flerkin is not as intelligent as me.”

Carol exchanged a look with Goose. She’d yet to fully understand how to communicate with her, but Goose followed complex commands way too seamlessly on space missions to not be intelligent beyond that of a normal cat or human toddler.

“Debatable,” Nebula said as she entered the living room, coffee in her hand, and sat next to Carol.

“Either way, Law—Mar-Vell had her spayed.”

“Because if that thing gets in contact with another flerkin—hell, I bet it could even breed with regular cats—we’re all in for absolute hell.”

Carol scratched Goose’s head, loud purrs vibrating through her chest. “Yes, because I’d hate to have a bunch of _kittens_ around.”

She knew enough people in space who’d like a flerkin companion.

Rocket was seconds from a snarky response when a device went off. On Rocket, apparently, as he pulled out a communicator.

“Shit, Nebula, you know how we’ve been lookin’ for Marvin-34 for—?”

“ _You’ve_ been looking for Marvin-34—”

“His name is Marvin-34?” Carol asked.

Rocket shot them both dirty looks. Paused. Picked up the remote, turned off the TV, and chucked the remote across the room.

“ _This is important_ ,” Rocket seethed.

“Um, finding out if Eve and Villanelle fuck is way more important,” Carol said.

“Literally anything else is more important,” Nebula said as she sunk into the couch pillows.

“So _Marvin-34,_ whom I’ve been looking for for over seven years, is on Earth. There has never been a better time to strike.”

“Did this guy hurt you in some way?” Carol asked.

Rocket crossed his arms. “He owes me units.”

Carol sat up. “You made me listen to you talk instead of watching this Emmy-nominated show because some asshole owes you _units_? You’re a space criminal! Half the people in the goddamn galaxy owes you units! You owe them to the other half!”

“This isn’t a space mission. It’s easier. I’m saying let’s go,” Rocket said.

Nebula and Carol exchanged a look.

“That’s the most unappealing thing you’ve said in a week,” Nebula said.

“And why do you want me?” Carol asked.

Rocket grinned. “Because you may just recognize the area.”

One look at Rocket’s screen and Carol was completely prepared to punch Rocket across state lines again.

This Marvin-34 was in Ventura.

#

Not only Ventura, Carol realized after a quick Benatar flight to some deserted area in the area, but the only lesbian bar-slash-sex shop in the entire county. It was at the very least on the hipster side of Ventura, closer to the beach and more touristy, but that was about where the pluses ended. Oh, Carol _knew_ this bar. It’d taken years of stumbling through high school going sex shop to sex shop (yes, Downtown Ventura had two things: consignment stores and sex shops) finding queer people only to eventually find this bar. It was…well, it was shitty, but there’d been gay women there and baby gay!Carol had taken what she could before the Air Force and Maria rolled around.

And now she was going to have to sneak a raccoon inside.

“You know they’re not just gonna let you in?” Carol said as the three of them eyed a sign conspicuously labeled NO FOREIGN PETS WITHOUT PERMIT. WE GOT NEARLY SHUT DOWN LAST TIME SOMEONE BROUGHT IN THEIR WEASEL, IAN.

“I am not getting in that thing!” was Rocket’s only response.

Carol shrugged, Nebula handing the hot pink Astronaut Bubble Cat Carrier, Goose’s (least?) favorite carrying device, back to her. Nebula herself had used some of Tony’s tech for a disguise—a redheaded human. Hot, although not quite Nebula’s unique brand of alien assassin hot. “Well, then no Marvin-34.”

“Why won’t either of you just go in there and get him out here?”

Nebula glanced at Carol. “Because neither of us care enough about this.”

“I _said_ I’d give you two units.”

Carol drummed her fingers along the case. “You specified ‘enough units to buy food after’ which…” Carol glanced at the door to the bar. It was literally just a plain black door, the shop containing no windows or anything. The kind of place where people get murdered. “I’d actually rather not go in there if we can help it.”

Rocket snickered. “Why? Too scared you’ll find some cowgirl flame of yours?”

Just as a woman in a cowboy hat walked into the bar, apparently so oblivious she missed the talking raccoon.

“I consider that a real issue,” Carol replied.

Rocket threw his hands up. “Fine! I’ll buy whatever you two a-holes want inside _and_ stupid burgers after. Just get me in there to talk to this guy!”

Nebula and Carol pointed to the car carrier.

“Try to walk in right now and they’ll call Animal Control,” Carol insisted.

One second passed.

Two.

Three.

And Rocket climbed into the cat carrier.

Just to rub it in a little, Carol put him on her back. Miraculously, his voice could barely be heard through the little air holes.

“Are you sure you can get him in here? He looks like a raccoon,” Nebula said.

Carol smiled. “I got this. Lying in Ventura used to be my entire existence.”

One step into the bar, and it was everything Carol remembered. Like _had not_ been updated since the 80s. Ugly multi-colored floor, peeling black leather furniture, bar covered in stickers, black curtain in the back leading to the sex shop.

“So…tap once if you spot the guy,” Carol said, turning around slowly so Rocket could have a good view.

And just like that, the bar tender, a beefy guy in a cowboy hat but wearing a shirt with a rainbow on it, approached her and Nebula.

“Hey, ma’am, what’s in the backpack?” he asked.

Carol kept a straight face. “My service animal.”

The man craned his head around. “What kind of animal is that?”

“A really ugly dog.” Carol shrugged. “Mutts, ya know?”

The bar tender raised an eyebrow. “And what is it used for?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Carol spotted Nebula exchanging a glance with Rocket.

Carol gave a tight smile. “I don’t think you’re at liberty to know that.”

Carol turned to the sex shop, allowing Rocket to see the bar tender. “Is the back open right now?”

“Back’s open when the bar is,” the bar tender said.

No taps from Rocket.

“Cool,” Carol said. “We’ll head back there.”

“Don’t let the ugly dog out,” the bar tender said.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Carol grabbed Nebula’s arm and led her into the sex shop.

And that’s about when Nebula’s mouth fell open.

The back area was even less decorated than up front. Just some raised tables, masks on the walls, and a twin bed with a BSDM swing hanging over it. But what Carol assumed Nebula was staring at were the lines upon lines of different dildos and vibrators. Realistic, rainbow, two feet long, suction cups, wands, bullets, straps.

“For someone made of machinery, I’m kinda surprised this impresses you,” Carol said.

“Thanos was far too prude to touch any of my intimate parts,” Nebula said as she picked up a hyper-realistic dildo, veins and all.

Carol nodded, slowly. “Y’know, I was hoping to avoid any ill-timed questions leading to clitoral mutilation stories, so cool.” Carol shot her a thumbs up.

Nebula moved on to the vibrators as Rocket unzipped himself. “Can you two _not_ discuss lady bits on this mission?”

“We’re literally in a lesbian sex shop,” Carol countered. “We’d be failing this mission if we don’t.” Carol wheeled around to Nebula. “So virgin question aside, everything works? Like you have orgasmed in this lifetime?”

“Are we even still looking for my man?” Rocket interjected.

“I’ve…had some experiences in the last few years,” Nebula answered.

“Because this shit,” Carol picked up a vibrator, didn’t really matter which one, “is magical. Aside from raw skill and communication, it’s why girls have the best sex.”

Carol tossed Nebula the vibrator. She observed it like a scientist. “So this…works for couples and…self-pleasure?”

“Are you two going to stop?” Rocket demanded. “I never needed to know that Nebula could orgasm!”

Carol rolled her eyes. “And I never need to know if you do. So fair shot, Furface, tell us your intimate secrets.”

Rocket sunk back into the cat carrier. “I actually miss Drax and Quill.”

And before anyone could continue the conversation, a man entered the area. Same rainbow shirt, no cowboy hat but man bun instead.

“Can I help you two?” he asked.

Reflexes infinitely faster than the time Carol couldn’t climb off a girl she was making out with in her dad’s living room when he came home early, Carol zipped Rocket into the carrier, maybe sacrificing a couple raccoon hairs in the process.

Carol smirked. Put an arm around Nebula. “Yes, we’re looking to spice up our sex life.”

Nebula couldn’t blush, but Carol imagined she was doing that right then.

The worker’s eyes lit up. Carol didn’t need to know what that was implying. Hopefully just an appreciation for girl on girl sexual technique. “Anything you’ve always wanted to try? Any kinks? BDSM, roleplay, anything like that?”

Carol still had to show Rocket this asshole. She walked over to the BDSM swing display, passing by enough to show Rocket.

“What about BDSM, babe?” Carol called to Nebula. She put a hand on the leather swing. “This isn’t that hardcore.”

Nebula had her arms crossed, barely able to make eye contact. “If it’s in our price range.”

The worker smiled. “It’s a great price. Half off sale right now.”

It was still a hundred and fifty bucks, and Carol could imagine that it would fall out of its mooring in the ceiling.

Rocket tapped on the plastic of the carrier.

And Carol was _about to_ react properly when another woman walked into the store.

Janet.

God fucking dammit, _Janet_? Who probably wouldn’t have otherwise even known Carol existed? Maria was going to have a field day with this one. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck—

“Wow, you look just like an old friend of mine,” Janet said.

Nebula shot Carol such a burning glare that Carol could practically feel it through her clothing.

"I have a pretty generic face," Carol replied.

God, she was wearing cowboy boots. What had Carol _done_?

Janet approached her. Too close. Even for lesbians. "It's uncanny."

Carol dropped her hands from the sex swing. “Weird how shit works out like that...”

She needed to get out of here.

And suddenly Rocket was launching himself out of her carrier.

“Marvin-34, you fuckin’ asshole!” Rocket screeched as he sailed through the air, some kind of illegal taser in his hand.

Marvin-34, the original Helpful Sex Shop Worker, hinged his mouth open, but it was Janet who screamed.

“What _is_ that?” Janet exclaimed.

Rocket landed on Marvin-34, knocking them both to the floor in a sea of dildos. Shoved the taser into his chest, clicking it on. Marvin-34 screamed.

Fuck. Not to say _thank god_ Thanos had destroyed the Nova Core, but she would’ve 100% lost her privileges if word ever got back to them about this.

“Are you _done_?” Carol demanded as she ran over to Rocket, binary on for nothing more than an outlet for how pissed she was.

“Yeah, I—” Rocket said.

Carol shoved him back into the backpack, blasted a hole in the back wall, and ran out.

The binary only really settled down once everyone had safely returned to the Benatar.

“Yeah, don’t ever attack a man in a public store on Earth again,” Carol said.

“You needed a save from the creepy Terran woman.”

Carol clenched her jaw, vowing right then and there to never admit he was right. Ever.

“Did you really get your units?” Nebula asked, turning off her earth disguise.

“I did. Did _you_ get anything?” Rocket held up a paw. “Or wait, I shouldn’t ask. Freaks.”

Nebula smirked, and straight up pulled a bullet vibrator out of her pocket.

There was a long moment of silence.

“You didn’t pay for that, didn’t you?” Carol asked.


	7. Kryptonite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Carol comes back from a mission injured, Natasha knows there's one person left who can convince Carol to slow down long enough to heal.

Before the attack on Thanos, Steve hadn’t gotten a moment to really take in Carol. Sometimes just saying her name out loud to Nat felt wrong, like someone like the titan who’d carried Tony back from lightyears away in one night could really be a person. A person with a top ten most popular female names of the twentieth century name like Carol. And over the past several months, he hadn’t gotten the chance. Carol, for all she did to keep up her enigma, practically kept one foot on Earth and one foot in space. Usually lifting the Earth foot to space.

So had he tried to time his return to see Nat and Rhodey with Carol’s scheduled return from a mission with Rocket and Nebula? Yes. He hadn’t admitted it to Nat yet, but she was one more look at him from figuring it out.

“Enjoying retirement, old man?” Rhodey asked as he made coffee. It was barely nine in the morning.

“As well as I can be,” Steve replied.

Steve’s one space journey hadn’t exactly given him all the knowledge about space he’d always dreamed of as a child. In fact, it still blew his mind sometimes. He’d gone into the ice with space a concept of mythos. Within a few years of emerging from the ice, men were almost ready to walk on Mars and there were people like Carol who could just fly through space without a helmet on. He didn’t even know if there was a sense of night and day in space.

“So the Guardians and Carol are actually working well together?” Steve asked.

Nat laughed. “I would almost feel bad lying to you and saying they’re a great team.”

Steve put a hand on Nat’s shoulder. “Well, we’ve made some pretty unlikely teams work.”

Rhodey gave Steve a look. “What team? The last one had Wanda and Vision, who against all rules of nature _started screwing_ , and you know Sam was the easiest-going guy we’ve ever worked with.”

Steve tried to ignore the pang at hearing the dusted’s names. “And…?”

“That raccoon has a terrible personality and the blue woman is objectively ready to murder all of us.”

Steve cracked a smile. Rocket did have a grating personality, and Steve had spent more than ten years with Tony Stark. “And Carol?”

“Carol is what happens when you take someone in the Air Force and give them the ability to shoot fire from their hands with no supervision.”

“Oh come on, Rhodey, she reminds me more of Steve than Tony.” Nat shot Steve a smile. “Very compelled to fight for the little guy.”

The front door clicked open, everyone’s gazes whipping to the sound. A figure, Rocket, and Carol’s cat/deadly alien came trotting in.

And the figure wasn’t Carol.

It was Nebula with Carol slung around her back like a cape, her cheek against Nebula’s shoulder and her arms wrapped around Nebula’s neck.

Nat drove up to them first. “What the hell happened to her?”

Rocket waved a hand. “She got hit with a small missile in binary while fighting off a fleet so Nebula and I could fix the Benatar’s navigation.”

“We could’ve taken her ship,” Nebula mumbled.

“She got hit with a _missile_?” Steve asked.

“A small missile,” Rocket said.

Steve’s gaze traveled over to Carol, still slumped against Nebula. This was someone who was born on Earth, lived a normal human life, and could now survive being hit with a missile.

On the other hand, and perhaps more importantly, she had just gotten hit with a missile.

“We should probably get her to the infirmary. A hospital…?” Steve asked.

“Great,” Nebula said.

And she unlatched Carol’s hands

and dropped her.

Onto the floor. Just let her crumble to the tile floor.

“Why did you—?” Steve asked.

Carol groaned into the tile from the floor. Turned her head toward them, wincing. She had a black bruise on her cheekbone.

“ _Thanks a lot_ , Nebula!” Carol mumbled.

“I’ve had to carry you across the lawn and you’re _indomitable_ , remember?”

Carol sighed. “Remind me we’re never drinking together again.”

“Are you okay?” Nat asked.

“Going binary takes a lot of energy, so I’m just wiped. The missile is barely part of the equation.”

Natasha crossed her arms. “You sure you don’t want an x-ray or anything?”

“No, really. I’m fine. Just like, put some food here and don’t make me dissemble another sect of the Neo Sicilian Mafia and we’re fine. Right as rain.”

A moment of silence passed.

“You’re in the entryway and you’re seriously gonna just stay here?” Rhodey asked.

Carol shot him a glare. “Yes.”

Rhodey sighed and made a point of stepping over Carol’s body.

#

Based on the connected dots between Carol’s and Rhodey’s stories over the past several months, Maria was pretty surprised she hadn’t been emergency contacted to come to the Avengers facility earlier. But they’d finally done it, something about Carol “literally needing Life Alert,” so Maria made her way in the S.H.I.E.L.D.-manufactured plane Nick had gotten her years ago, mentally preparing for whatever zany shit Carol was up to this time.

Yes, it still threw Maria every time that the woman Maria had watched grow from a teenager to a young woman had never physically left her late twenties, but Maria almost felt assured that the shock didn’t last long this time. Just another episode with _Captain Marvel_ , Carol in her suit splayed out like a dead bug, not conscious, with a pack of Pop Tarts unopened on the floor near her. Several bruises, some probably internal. Rhodey and Steve stood by Carol’s flanks as Maria approached the situation. She gave Rhodey a hug and accepted a quick one from Steve.

“Is she…okay?” Steve asked.

Maria shook her head, but it couldn’t keep the smile from creeping onto her lips. “This is nothing compared to ’96 when she came back from a Skrull-Kree spat with a two-foot piece of shrapnel stuck in her back completely unaware of the damage because she’d been in binary when it happened.”

Rhodey and Steve just stared.

“What?” Rhodey said.

“Let’s just say Carol using her body to destroy spaceships worked about half the time when she was first learning how to use her powers.” Maria picked up the Pop Tarts. “If one of y’all would be so kind and move her to a bed, I’ll check her for internal damage. Keep her lack of self preservation in check.”

Steve, of course, was the one to do it. Her old Air Force buddy just shook his head at her.

“Do you have something to say, Jimmy?” Maria asked.

Maria caught the edge of Steve’s lips perking up, making the whole exchange worth it already. Rhodey lost a bit of his height as he looked to Maria, silently asking why.

“Nothing. I just get what you meant when you said you felt like you have two kids.”

“This isn’t what I’m referring to when I say that, but I’ll let her know you’re very grateful for her keeping you alive.”

By the time Steve dropped Carol into one of the seemingly hundreds of bedrooms in the Avengers facility, Natasha was already waiting with some ice packs and the rest of a box of Pop Tarts.

“Figured I’d be handy if you need help patching her up,” Natasha said.

“If you mean hold her down while I apply iodine to her cuts, then yes.”

Maria could practically feel Natasha’s gaze on her as she felt Carol for any obvious breaks. No movement from Carol, though, so nothing so far.

It took Natasha, International Spy, Assassin, and Avenger ten seconds to say what was on her mind.

“Are you and Carol still married?” Natasha asked.

Maria chuckled despite herself. “We are. Open marriage.” She paused. “Why, did Carol convince you take a bath with her too?”

Maria would cherish the way Natasha went red at the suggestion. “No. No, it—it wasn’t a bath. And it wasn’t sexual. We’re professional—”

“It’s fine if it’s not. We’ve had the arrangement for a while and it actually works more in my favor than you’d think.”

“Really?”

Maria shook the iodine. “Yeah. With her powers, she’s got the energy and pretty much the same brain speed as ’95. When she comes back still in binary, pissed and wanting to fuck like we did back in the Air Force, I send her to one of her alien friends. She cools down, and can actually talk. She comes to me when she’s stripped down the binary, the whole Captain Marvel persona.” Maria uncapped the iodine. “Besides, what else could I expect for her? She’s not completely human any more, and won’t age like it.”

Natasha crossed her arms. “It must be hard.”

“I’m getting used to it.”

Maria dropped maybe three drops of iodine onto a cut on Carol’s forehead. Carol launched up, butting right into Maria’s head. The pain was rattling, but normal. Not like a concussion. Still hurt, but Maria couldn’t help but be relieved that Carol’s control exercises were working.

“Now are you—?” Natasha asked.

The moment Carol really saw Maria, those brown eyes went completely soft. Joy washed over her features, Maria swore the same joy Carol had been looking at her since they met.

“Maria!” she said as she pressed a firm kiss onto her lips. Once, then a series all over her face.

“Hey, dork, I’m not done with your cut,” Maria said as she tried to hold back the laughter. It didn’t really work.

So much for holding Carol down to fix her cuts. She was already ripping open a pack of Pop Tarts with minimal complaining about her possibly broken internals.

“You would’ve told me stop if you were seriously worried,” Carol said.

“Eh, you _are_ over fifty now. I don’t think I have time for that.”

Carol dropped into the pillows. “Why am I like this?”

“With no common sense?”

Carol broke into a smile. “No!” She lightly pushed Maria as she scooted up to lay next to her. “Stuck in somewhere between ’89 and ’95.” Carol frowned. “Spending so much time with a douchebag raccoon.”

“You talk too much about the douchebag raccoon to really hate him.”

“That’s _not_ a thing!”

Maria cracked a smile. “No, but I bet he likes you and will spend his lifetime trying to prove his worth.”

“Not this guy.”

“Still doesn’t negate the fact that you talk about him _all the time_. More than any man besides Nick and Talos in our decades knowing each other.”

Carol started to sit up, only to stop midway with a hiss of pain. She groaned as she returned to a lying position. “What’s the status, Rambeau?”

Maria pursed her lips. “You’re definitely gonna die.”

“Good. Will you finally adopt Goose?”

“Absolutely not.”

Carol gave a fake pout. “Not even as my dying wish?”

“Not even as your dying wish.”

Carol paused.

“Can I have those Pop Tarts?” Carol pointed to the bedside table. “I got hit with a missile so you could stand here and not give them to me.”

Maria grabbed the package, keeping it at a distance from Carol. “Where was this missile sent out from? I get the impression it was from somewhere far from Earth.”

“It was close. Close enough that it was _definitely_ related to your safety. I indirectly saved your life, trust me.”

Maria opened the Pop Tart package. Removed one. “Are you even supposed to eat junk like this after going binary? I thought we decided you needed iron?”

Carol bit her lip, barely holding back a smile. “Binary is more nuanced than that.”

“Is it, though?”

“Extremely. As you know, I have to be thinking of the exact physics equation needed to heat the energy around me, and you know, it’s low blood sugar not iron. But close. Very close.”

Maria crawled over to Carol, straddling her but still holding the Pop Tart out of reach. “Says the person who caught cereal on fire.”

Carol grinned. “That is a low blow that has nothing to do with nutrition.”

Maria crawled off, still holding the Pop Tarts. “Promise me you’ll stay in bed for an actual reasonable amount of time this time?”

Carol sighed. “Fine.”

“Then, yes, you can—”

And that’s when Carol launched for her.

#

Caring about the welfare of her teammates was still something new for Nebula. And to say it’d been present with the Guardians was a stretch. She cared about Gamora, and maybe Mantis a little bit. Even after the Decimation, Nebula had to actively care about Rocket. It was more an obligation to Gamora’s memory than actual fondness for the creature.

But there was something about Danvers.

Perhaps it was from how invisible she seemed on the battlefield and off. Not to say she was _actually_ injured permanently in this case, but it still piqued Nebula’s interest. More than Rocket did, anyway. Did Carol heal like a human or like a titan? Nebula had personally never seen Thanos recover from battle, even after grievous injuries.

It would be a quick check. And if she was playing games on her stupid rectangle or while communicating with that blond oaf in New Asgard, she’d just walk out.

So, she opened the door.

No video games this time. No blond oaf.

Just Carol’s pilot wife—Maria? everyone on this wretched planet was named Maria—with Carol lying almost completely on top of her, looking like a complete idiot as unwrapped a pastry rectangle.

“Carol, get off,” Maria said.

“I literally can’t move everything hurts so much,” Carol replied.

Nebula took a deep breath. So she healed like a Terran. Good to know.

She walked over to the pile and grabbed Carol’s free arm.

“How long have you—?” Carol said, brow furrowed.

Nebula didn’t answer, just yanked Carol off Maria. Carol cried out in pain, far less titan than she’d been when the missile first hit her.

Maria coughed, probably trying to hide a laugh. “Thank you, …?”

“Don’t impede your healing, Danvers,” Nebula said. “You know what it’s like having to do missions with just the raccoon.”

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone has any funny/silly prompts for future stories in this series, drop a comment and I’ll try to incorporate!


End file.
